


Everything

by BAnonymous



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Porn with Feelings, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-07 00:14:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12829173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BAnonymous/pseuds/BAnonymous
Summary: Romance is in the air as Alistair finally plucks up the courage to tell Laurel Cousland how he feels. *Spoiler Alerts! Some of the dialogue and situations are right out of the game* Dark ritual is included. Enjoy!The title of this piece was inspired by the song Everything by JES & Tiësto.





	1. “Here. In this camp.”

_Today is the day,_ he told himself. _Tonight I ask her to be mine. She’ll say yes, we’ll make love under the stars, and we’ll live happily ever after._ Alistair took a step towards camp, saw her standing by the fire talking with Leliana, and felt his courage buckle. He abruptly about faced back into the trees, his fists squeezing until they were shaking. _Damnit damnit damnit! Maker’s breath, why is this so hard?_

He’d been stuck in the bushes for an hour now, the grass under his feet had worn into dirt from his pacing. If he could just find the right thing to say, he could go to her right now, no problem. Of course, the fact that he was about as suave as a drunken fool trying to walk with his feet tied together didn’t help. Perhaps it was just him, but the words : “Laurel, I love you, please get naked with me” really didn’t have the flair he was going for. He groaned inwardly. Alistair rubbed the back of his neck and began to pace once more.

 _What if she said no?_ That was unlikely; she had asked him to her tent before and _he_ had been the one who wanted to wait. If she did say no, he would respect that, of course. Perhaps maybe a part of him would even be relieved. But if she said yes… That line of thinking led to the real fear : _what if I can’t please her?_ He was a virgin, and although he knew the basics and had even read a few serials by writers whom seemed keen on the subject, he still had no real experience. Alistair had touched _himself_ , of course. There was nothing in the Chantry vows that forbade that. But the thought of actually _doing_ it, all of it, with another _person…_ It was both exhilarating and terrifying. 

And then the idea of being with her…

Alistair peeked through the leaves from were he lurked. She was still with the redhead and the two were laughing about something. He sighed. He remembered the first moment he had met Lady Laurel Cousland. He had thought her to be very pretty and congenial enough. She was a warrior like him and had proven herself in battle; as tough as she is, she was unusually diplomatic to everyone she met, even to scary and unsavory characters like Morrigan and her battle axe of a mother. She was strong enough to survive the Taint, and a part of him had been a little sad for the young woman, because he knew what kind of life lay ahead for the new Warden: a lot of fighting and a short lifespan.

After they lost Duncan to Loghain’s betrayal, it had just been the two of them. Despite Alistair being the senior Warden, Laurel had taken command; to be honest, it was a relief. He had never liked being in charge anyway, and she was more than capable. Over time they had become friends, made new friends, and fought in many battles with a great war still to come. Throughout the hardships they endured, Laurel had had to make some very difficult decisions, some of which he still felt were ill advised. Even so, she was optimistic, caring, compassionate, wise beyond her years, valiant and fair. She made him laugh, eased his fears, and had even helped get him through that terrible incident with Goldanna. He didn’t know exactly when it happened, but somewhere along the line that pretty, congenial, noble Warden had become his best friend and the most glorious woman he had ever known, and he was now totally stupid in love with her.

He smiled warmly as he recalled their first kiss. It had been so gentle, but something had awakening inside him, like a lock being picked on an ancient chest full of the things he most treasured and rarely shared. Alistair made a lot of jokes, that was his way, and he knew most saw him as a fool for it, but it was the best way for him to avoid feeling anything he wasn’t ready to let others see. His mother, his father, Duncan and, in a way, his sister – everyone had left him. 

But now he had a new family. One that was… odd. A mean witch, a zealous bard, a stern Sten, a drunken dwarf, a man-slut assassin, a busybody mage, a dog and a big golem… thing. None of which would be here if not for Laurel. They followed her as he did, with love and esteem. For better or worse, with no lack of bickering, they worked. They trusted her. _He_ trusted her.

Alistair paced again, his steps a little lighter and less troubled. Did he love her? Yes. Did he want to be with her? Also yes, desperately. _“Everyone is out for themselves. You should learn that.”_ That’s what she had said about his money grubbing sister, and she was right. Not everyone was out for peace and justice, and honor was sorely lacking. Everyone took care of themselves, and the few people that went out of their way to help others were as rare and beautiful as diamonds amongst coals. Laurel was one such rarity, and anything could happen tomorrow. The next group of bandits or darkspawn they came across could be their last before one of them perished. 

Alistair had waited a long time to find someone like her. He wanted her to be his first, maybe even his last. If one of them died before he had a chance to give every piece of himself to her, heart, body and spirt, he would never forgive himself. 

Laurel Cousland was no coward, and if he was to be worthy of her, he couldn’t be a coward either.

 _Besides,_ he thought, _worst case scenario, I’ll live out my entire life alone and most likely drunk somewhere. Maybe I’ll write a book about it? “Here’s How to Lose the Perfect Woman!” I might actually end up helping a lot of people if they simply do the opposite of me._

Alistair snickered. He turned to camp and shook the tension off of him. _Alright, let’s go make an ass of myself._ He forced a deep breath and walked with determination towards his objective. _Right foot, left foot. Right. Left. Right. Left…_

He approached. Leliana noticed him before Laurel did. She whispered something that made Laurel turn. When she saw him she smiled, and he almost tripped over his own feet. _Damnit man, get ahold of yourself!_ Leliana got up and walked away somewhere, leaving him and the woman of his dreams alone together by the fire.

“Hey you,” she said. Laurel moved towards him, the light of the bonfire gleamed off of her armor and silhouetted her hair. How could she move so gracefully in all that steel? He’d had fantasies of taking it off of her piece by piece… of letting her hair down and to feel it brush over his skin…

His body warmed. Alistair gulped and bit the inside of his cheek to help focus. “Hi,” he choked out. _Andraste’s dimpled left butt cheek, he really was going to die alone. Chapter One : Have a heart attack every time you try to talk to her…_

“You’ve been skulking around the forest for a long time,” she observed. “Something on your mind?”

 _Just say it. Say it!_ “Alright,” he finally said. “I don’t really know how to ask you this…”

Laurel stepped a little closer and squinted at his brow. “Are you sweating?”

Panicked, he looked away. The ground, the sky, anywhere but her face. “No! I mean yes. I mean… I’m a little nervous, sure. Not that this is anything bad or frightening or… well…” Alistair took a deep exasperated sigh before looking at her again “… Yes.” 

_Dear Herald, please kill me now..._

Someone started talking, and he realized it was him. “Oh, how do I say this? You’d think it would be easier, but every time I’m around you, I feel as if my head’s about to explode.” He demonstrated by gesturing to his head as though it was a firebomb. “I – I can’t think straight.” 

She smiled again, her white teeth looked stunning in the dim. “I feel the same way,” she replied sweetly.

Alistair laughed as he felt some of the tension drain out of him. The moths in his stomach were still fluttering like crazy, but now he felt like he might be able to get through this. He took a leap of faith and let the words tumble out of him.

“Here’s the thing. Being around you makes me crazy, but I can’t imagine being without you. Not ever. I don’t know how to say this another way. I want to spend the night with you. Here. In this camp. Maybe this is too fast, I don’t know but… I know what I feel.” He waited for her to laugh, or slap him, or for lightning to strike him dead.

She moved in closer. “I thought you would never ask.” Laurel’s smile had softened, and her eyes were bright with a hint of wonder.

“I wanted to wait for the perfect time, the perfect place… but when will it be perfect? If things were, we wouldn’t even have met. We sort of… stumbled into each other, and despite this being the _least_ perfect time, I still found myself falling for you in between the fighting and everything else. I really don’t want to wait anymore. I’ve…” his eyes fell. “… I’ve never done this before. You know that. I want it to be with you… while we have the chance. In case...”

Her cool hand cupped his flaming red cheek, holding him steady. “You don’t have to say anything more. I agree.”

Alistair felt his heart burst with relief as joy quickened through his blood. His long arms wrapped around her and hugged her hard enough for their armor to clank. He met her halfway in an enthusiastic embrace as they kissed. Her lips were pliant and sweet as she opened enough to tease his tongue with hers. He softly moaned. They had kissed like this many times, but this occasion was different. This time he knew they were going to go further, and he didn’t know if it was the fire or her lips, but he was starting to feel feverish – his body growing hot and his thoughts becoming hazy and all that existed was her.

Laurel stepped back to draw them to the mouth of her tent. She drew back the flap and beckoned. He went inside, the tent just tall enough in the middle to accommodate his height. It was dark as the flap fell, but as his eyes adjusted Alistair could see the light of the bonfire shining through the fabric walls to slightly illuminate the dim. Alistair moved to embrace her again, but he froze as she dropped her sword to the side, and then peeled off her gloves one by one. He watched transfixed as she removed her shoulder guards next and then began to loosen the leather holding her breastplate. He unconsciously licked his suddenly dry lips and glanced up to see her looking at him. Laurel winked as she nimbly undid another fastening. Alistair blushed at his staring, and instinctively turned his back. She lightly chuckle, and he found himself shaking his head, smiling sheepishly at his own modesty. He could tell by the noise of shifting steel plates behind him that she was still undressing. Not wanting to be the only overdressed warrior in the Naked Tent, Alistair began to take off his armor as well. It was quick work, he only took a few minutes before he rested the final layers on a pile in the corner of the tent. He hesitated at his underwear, but after a moment he hooked his thumbs into the straps and pushed them down to pool at his feet. With a flick of his toe, they also joined the pile. 

Alistair shivered. He wasn’t the least bit cold, but he couldn’t stop the nervous flutter in his gut that made his breath a little shaky. He took a long inhale in and let it out slow. Alistair looked over his shoulder at Laurel, only to have the air in his lungs taken away from him again.

She was completely unclothed. Her back was turned to him, her long shapely legs ended at her round buttocks that curved into her firm waist. _It almost looks like a heart,_ he observed at her derrière. Her hands were busy loosening her hair from the confines of her braids. The waves of her locks tumbled down her back as she shook her head a little. Alistair didn’t feel himself move, but suddenly there he was, behind her a mere inch away. The heat from her flesh gave him goosebumps as he caressed her soft hair. He leaned down and inhaled her scent – sweat, grass, leather and steel. Under all that was Laurel, unique and intoxicating. He hummed into her hair as he breathed her in, and he felt her shudder. 

Her hair fell from his fingers as she turned. Alistair’s eyes fell upon her breasts, full and firm with twin dusky peaks atop each one. He could see her chest rising and falling with every breath. His fingers itched with the urge to touch them, to feel them in his hands. He met her eyes, and his heart skipped a beat. _Maker’s breath, she is beautiful…_ He had never seen her with her hair down before; the “Grey Warden” had vanished, leaving him to gaze at Laurel herself, bewitching and so lovely it hurt. Her alluring eyes fell to his chest, and he wondered if she could see his heart beating through his rib cage. He flushed as her gaze went further down. He bit his bottom lip to stifle a groan. It was as if he could _feel_ her eyes on him; Alistair’s cock tightened as assuredly as if he was being stroked by her hand.

Her hands found his and guided them to her breasts. Although his heart leaped, he kept his touch feather light, ghosting over the warmth of her skin and marveled at their softness as he gently squeezed. Laurel sighed, and leaned into him – he took that as a good sign. Alistair brushed his thumbs across the nipples and he heard her breath slightly hitch as the peaks tightened. He did so again, this time a little harder, and watched as her mouth parted in another sigh. Alistair brushed his lips across hers before he leaned down and tenderly kissed her bosom. He made it to her nipple and kissed it as well, his thumb lingering along its mate. When he teased her with the tip of his tongue, her hands pressed into his shoulders as she arched into him. Alistair wanted more. He cupped her, opened his wide and drew as much of her sweet mound as he could into his mouth as if she was an apple and he was to take a bite. Careful of his teeth, Alistair’s tongue swept across her pert peak; she gave a low moan as he lapped at her, her nails lightly scratching his skin. He loved how wet and soft she had become, and when he pulled back and saw how the nipple looked darker than before, like mulled wine, he wanted to make the other one look just like it. He captured her second breast in his mouth and started again, rewarded with another moan from Laurel as he began to suckle her. The hands on his shoulders moved to his jaw and brought him back up. In a moment her lips were on his, her tongue hot as it slipped inside and found his own. Her arms wrapped around his neck to draw him closer; he released her beautiful breasts and pulled her flush against him. He moaned into her mouth as he felt her damp mounds press against his chest, and how his erection pulsed against the smooth skin of her firm belly. Her lips trailed to his neck, and Alistair shuddered at the pleasant sensation of her kissing his skin. He slid his hands from her hair, down her back and cupped her heart shaped cheeks to lift her up to capture her lips again. She was a tall woman, but the movement had her dancing on the tips of her toes, her weight literally in his hands as he held her to him and plundered the depths of her mouth. Laurel took him by surprise when her leg wrapped around the back of his thigh and she ground herself against his loins, her wet curls finding him hot and aching. A desperate groan fell through his lips as his body pulsed with need, and without thinking he brought her against him again. She clung to his shoulders as he rolled her womanhood against his length, their breathes mingled together as she slid up and down, his quivering member trapped between their bodies. 

Laurel’s hands pushed against his chest, and he reluctantly set her back to the ground. She held his eyes as she took his hand and knelt onto her sleeping mat, guiding him down with her. Her thighs opened and he immediately nestled between them. Careful not to crush her with his weight, Alistair braced himself with his arms on either side of her and settled his pelvis against hers. He shuddered as he rubbed his engorged flesh against her and found her to be devastatingly wet. Alistair looked at Laurel, and somehow through the hazy heat of his eyes he found her looking back at him. Her cheeks flushed and her lips dark with kisses, she was breathtaking, far more so than he had ever dreamed. He kissed her slow and sweet, and as they kissed the tip of his shaft slid inside...

Alistair’s mind stilled as he entered her, her moist canal embracing him in a delightfully warm fist. With a tilt of his pelvis he was deeper; her thighs opened more, cradling his hips with her own as he slid in a little further. He bit his lip as he fought for control. _Tight… Maker’s breath she get’s tighter the deeper I go…_ Laurel moved beneath him, drawing him the rest of the way inside her. He shuddered as his instincts kicked in and he began to thrust, his hips slipping out just enough to roll into her again. Alistair’s eyes closed in bliss as he felt her inner walls squeeze him, the wet friction slowly driving him mad as each thrust sent a current through his body like sweet lightning. He could feel her legs rub against his flanks and her hands grasping his shoulders. He opened his eyes to see her head tilting back in rapture as her hips moved in time with his, her hair splayed out underneath her while she softly panted through her luscious lips and her eyes met his through heavy, lustful lids.

That face of hers undid him, and his tempo increased, his thrusts shortened and his breath became harsher. Her strong limbs wrapped around him tight while her sweet voice made a breathy keening sound in his ear… His body stiffened with a sharp grind just before shamelessly moaning into her hair as the rush of his climax suddenly came. His limbs shook as he emptied, and all he could hear was his own pulse in his ears and he would have sworn for a moment his heart stopped. When the delicious ache in his groin finally eased, a flood of euphoria washed over him, his muscles instantly turned to warm wax. Mindful of his weight, he shifted to the side so he only half collapsed on top of her as he caught his breath. 

Laurel grasped him by the hair and Alistair smiled into her lips as she kissed him. He had expected a sleepy and slow kiss, but was a little surprised as her tongue insistently delved inside, hungrily sucking at his tongue and holding his head prisoner as she took his breath away again. Rather enjoying this kind of assault, he cupped her jaw and let her have her way with him. Laurel, however, took his hand from her face and guided it between her legs to press his fingers into her drenched nethers. She moaned low into his mouth as she arched into his fingers when she slid them up and down between her curls. Alistair took the hint and began to follow the movement on his own, his reward was another, sharper moan, and her guiding hand fell away to grip him by the arm. He continued to fondle her as her lips fell away and she began to gasp into his neck. Fascinated, Alistair watched her muscles shudder and her hips jut as he stimulated her. He experimented by slowing the pace of his hands, and was mesmerized as her thighs clamped around his forearm and tried to grind.

“ _Mmmm…_ ” she whimpered. “More, more please, more…” she pleaded, her breath growing desperate. It was the most arousing thing Alistair had ever heard.

He obliged, he slipped his fingers all the way down from her core to the top of her folds. Her legs fell open and she arched into him again as he picked up speed. 

“Higher…” she panted. “Higher…”

He moved up and focused on the slippery flesh beneath her curls. Her hand joined his for a moment and moved one of his fingers on each side, her nub now trapped between them as he stroked. Her breath was hot against his neck as she nodded and trembled.

“Now pinch… just a little.” Alistair carefully tightened his hold of the delicate flesh as he kept the rough pace and Laurel smothered a shrill keen into his skin as she undulated and he watched every muscle in her body tighten for an instant before melting into the earth. She sighed as her breath slowed, her arms cuddling him close. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the damp curls on her brow as she nuzzled his neck. 

Neither of them said a word as they held each other, but Alistair’s heart had never felt so full. He smiled to himself. _Perhaps I won’t die alone after all…_

 

—————————

“Hmmm,” he hummed in amusement as he lightly traced his fingers along the curve of her hip. “You know, according to all the sisters in the monastery, I should have been struck by lightning by now.”

Laurel quickly hid her smile before turning to him with a shrug. “It could still happen,” she teased.

Alistair smirked. “Sure! But after the fact doesn’t seem like it would very be much of a deterrent.” His eyes roamed over her curvy, yet sensuously toned body as she lay stretched out on her side. _Indeed, if I were struck dead right now, it would all have been worth it..._

He only wished it hadn’t taken an archdemon and impending blight to bring them together. 

“You do realize the rest of our little party here is going to talk, right?” He said, attempting to change his line of thinking. “They do that.”

She snorted. “First smart comment and I feed them to the darkspawn.”

“See? This is why I love you,” he said mirthfully. “So… what now? Where do we go from here?” 

Laurel turned and twined her calloused fingers with his. “We stay together, no matter what happens.” No sentiment, no hesitation, just a fact.

“Right. I can handle that. I hope,” Alistair replied, trying to hide the glow she illuminated within him, for that was exactly what he needed to hear. How could he have been so lucky to win her love? “Before we go, did I tell you that I love you? I did? Well, it won’t hurt you to hear it again, will it?”

Her laughter was like music. “I love you, too.”

“See? Was that so hard?” he said with a wolfish grin.

Laurel rolled her eyes and hooked her finger around his necklace to bring him down to her. Alistair sighed into her mouth as his skin slid over hers; her hands roamed up and down his back and he felt his cock stir when she cupped his ass and began to knead his flesh. His lips left a trail of kisses along the line of her jaw to her ear and began to suckle her earlobe as his fingers sought out her breast. With a gentle pinch her nipple hardened and he carefully rolled it. She made a soft noise of encouragement, and Alistair released her ear to watch her face begin to flush, and soften with pleasure as he caressed her. He felt the ache in his groin increase and he couldn’t stop the soft chuckle that escaped.

“What?” she asked.

Alistair shook his head. “I was just thinking, you are so beautiful; I only wish I could watch you and make love to you at the same time.” He laughed again.

Laurel, on the other hand did not join in. Instead, she looked thoughtful. “You know, we might be able to accommodate that.”

“Really? How?” 

She gave him a wicked grin, and with a shift of her leg Alistair suddenly found himself lying on his back with Laurel straddling him. Anticipation coursed hot through his veins as his heart pounded in excitement. She cupped his stiffening member to lie against his stomach, and trapped him there with her groin. She leaned back to brace her hands on the top of his thighs, and ground against him. 

Pleasure rippled up his spine and Alistair stifled a moan as her arousal moved against his own. He could feel her getting wetter with every thrust; her muscles moved with fluid strength and grace as her breathe became deeper and her eyes shined with playful lust. Alistair grasped her waist and caressed down to settle on her undulating hips. He looked down at where she moved against him, and almost cursed out loud when he saw her nethers rubbing sinfully against his dark and ready cock. He instinctually shifted against her, his fingers splayed on her sweet hips to increase the maddening friction. With a husky sigh she leaned forward to give him a fervent kiss, her hair tickling his chest as their tongues lapping hungrily at each other whilst she continued to grind. 

But he needed more; Alistair wrapped his arms around her and held her tight as he bent his knees to thrust against her, one hand at her wriggling pelvis and the other wrapped in her hair to groan into her mouth as he thrust insistently against her. She held fast as her moans joined his. After a few moments Laurel slid further up his body and sank down, enveloping him in her tight heat with a heady sigh. She shuddered as she slowly moved up and down his length, milking him at a steady tempo as their moist breaths mingled. Alistair clutched her thighs as she began to move more forcefully. With a gasp she suddenly sat upright, drawing him even deeper inside; her hands splayed across his ribs as she bobbed up and down on top of him. He grasped her hips again and followed her rhythm, timing his thrusts with hers. Soon her breath was as ragged as his own, her breasts pink and flushed and her head thrown back as they moved in sync. Alistair couldn’t take his eyes off of her: she had never looked so glorious as she did whilst she rode him; her hair wild, her breasts heaving and her mouth opened as she fought for breath. Alistair felt a telltale shudder run through the base of his spine; he was getting close, he could feel it. But he wanted her with him. He suddenly remembered something, and trailed a hand to her curls to find the nub she had showed him earlier and rubbed it. Her breath became harsher as he touched her. He stroked her in time with their movements, and felt something like a little pearl. Alistair oscillated his thumb around the tiny spot and Laurel’s face tightened with a shrill gasp. Her fingers clutched and she bore down hard in sweet desperation, her inner walls gripped almost painfully around his cock and her mouth opened in a silent scream as she came. Alistair groaned as she shuddered and squeezed, and in two more short thrusts he went over the edge with her. 

His lovely Warden kissed his breathless lips before dismounting and snuggling into his side. 

“Mmmm,” she hummed as she peppered his shoulder with kisses. “You learn fast, my love.”

Alistair blushed at the compliment. “If all lessons were as fun as this, I probably would have been a better student.”

Laurel giggled and propped herself up. Alistair smiled at her as she lovingly stroked his cheek. 

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Alistair frowned. “For what?”

“For choosing me. For being brave, and kind. For always making me laugh. And for being the sweetest man I’ve ever met. I’ve waited my whole life to feel this way, and I’m so grateful to have found it with you. I love you, Ali.” 

Alistair pulled her down to his lips. He held her close and made a silent promise that come what may, even if the cost was his own life, he was going to keep her safe. He was a bastard ex-Templar, and a doomed to die Grey Warden, but by the Maker, fate had given him a chance at happiness and he was going to keep it for as long as he could.

“Oh,” she said, interrupting his thoughts as her finger tips traced the smooth ridges of his chest, “and thank you for having this sexy as fuck, chiseled man body. I’ve wanted to jump this thing for months.”

Even as he chuckled he felt his face burn all the way to his ears. “Well, my dear, you are more than welcome to jump it any time you want.”

“Then you’d better get some sleep, because I’m pretty sure I’ll want to get one more jump in before breakfast.”

Alistair grinned. “Why wait?” In one smooth motion he picked Laurel up and rolled her underneath him, kissing her soundly as she giggled.

 

_The next day Alistair would wake up sore, starving and utterly spent…_

 

_… and he could hardly wait for nightfall to do it all over again._


	2. A Night at Redcliffe

There was no way around it, the first time they had stepped foot in Redcliffe Castle had been a nightmare – the kind of nightmare that involved sorcery, demons and a creepy child possessed by evil. It hadn’t been a picnic, but by some miracle and, he suspected a whole lot of luck, they had been able to save Redcliffe and little Conner. 

Their second time to the castle was better – their exploration into the legend of the Urn of Andraste had born fruit; they returned with the ashes and saved the Arl of Redcliffe. It had been good to see him again, Alistair had decided. Strange, but good. He hadn’t realized how much the old man meant to him until he saw him dying, but that was a common theme amongst people – taking things for granted, and all.

The Arl had been grateful, of course, especially when Teagan told him about how Laurel’s plan to go to the mages for assistance had saved his son’s life. Resources for a great feast were scarce, due to the village still recovering from the earlier siege, so he invited them to stay as long as they’d like and to take whatever supplies they could spare. Laurel, as courteous as she is beautiful, accepted his offer to stay the night and to leave again first thing in the morning.

This was a delightful development. They had been living like gypsies for the better part of that year and the rare prospect of hot baths and a warm meal was reason enough to accept the Arl’s hospitality. But that wasn’t all: it also meant a bed. Not just a soft mat or cot on the ground, but an actual bed. Feather mattress, clean sheets, down pillows, soft wool blankets, the works. Not to mention the stone walls _surrounding_ the bed. With a door. A thick one.

Alistair’s cheeks already ached from grinning. He’d been having fantasies about getting Laurel alone in a room with a bed for ages – their nightly romps were beyond enjoyable, but it would be even nicer to not be so cramped, or having to watch for rocks, roots or shit lying around, and to not have to be so mindful of how loud they were being. Here they could have full vocal orgasms and most likely no one would even notice.

Alistair carefully poured two healthy helpings of red wine in both goblets and set them beside the bed. She’d be here soon; he had asked her to meet him here after her bath and she said she would probably be about half and hour. He had assured her that she could take a whole hour if she wanted. He glanced at the clock, and saw that forty-five minutes had passed – if he knew her, she would take the even ground and was mostly likely on her way here.

He put another log on the fire and lit a few candles before disrobing. Naked, he climbed onto the bed and slipped between the sheets. He sighed in pleasure as the smooth cotton greeted him. Once there, he took all but one of the fragrant roses beside him and removed the dark pink petals to cover the top blanket with them. The roses at the castle were a bit poorly, but he had found some wild one’s growing nearby. He tossed the thorny stems into the fire and took the final rose gingerly, careful not to prick himself. Alistair adjusted the blanket and sheet down low onto his hips, hoping it will be low enough to insinuate that he was wearing nothing underneath, but still be high enough in case, Herald forbid, anyone else besides Laurel should barge in.

Alistair hummed to himself as he relaxed and waited. Thankfully it wasn’t long before he heard a knock at the door.

“Who is it?” he asked.

“It’s me,” came the response; even muffled by the thick wood he knew it was her.

Alistair quickly propped himself unto his side in what he hoped was an alluring posture. “ _Come in!_ ” he sang.

The door gave a low creak as it opened, followed by the heavy click as it closed. Laurel, in her freshly clean cotton tunic tucked loosely in her trousers and her wet tresses resting around her shoulders, walked into the light. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too – oh!” Her eyes went wide as she took in the vision of him sprawled in the petal strewn bed. “Oh my…” she murmured softly.

“Good evening, my love,” he said, keeping his voice seductively husky as he twirled the wild rose between his fingers. “Won’t you join me for a cup of sweet wine and... see where the night takes us?” His eyebrows gave her a suggestive waggle.

As she drew closer he could see that her tunic was damp from her hair, and Alistair could make out the shadow of her nipples underneath, hardened by the chill. He felt his lower region begin to warm, as the desire to roll those little peaks with his tongue became so vivid he could almost taste her…

His lascivious thoughts trailed off when he saw the thin smile on her face as she stopped by the bed, her stance a bit guarded and awkward.

Alistair set the rose down and sat up, drawing the sheets up with him to his waist. “What’s the matter?”

Laurel sat on the bed with a sigh. “Ali, this is so lovely…” she said wistfully.

“But… too much? It was the roses, wasn’t it? The roses were too much.” _Please say it was the roses and not me naked in the bed. Oh Maker, was it the muffin top? Had she seen the muffin top? I know I’ve been lax in my training and I only noticed it the other day but it was so small I hoped she would mistake it for muscle until I had gotten rid of it…_

She shook her head. “It’s perfect. Everything is perfect.” _Phew!_ “I’m afraid I’m just not in the mood tonight. My moon has started.”

 _Oh._ Alistair knew that meant “please don’t touch me, unless it’s to give me a foot massage” for the next few days. He hadn’t realized it had already become that time, he’d been so distracted by finding a cure for the Arl...

He sighed inwardly. _Well, looks like we won’t be breaking the bed tonight after all. Oh well._

“I am sorry, Alistair. I can see you went to a lot of trouble.”

Alistair took her hand and kissed the back of it with a smile. “It’s fine. I’m just glad you liked it. I’m sorry you are not feeling well, but I’m still happy you came to see me tonight. It seems like we’re never really alone on the road, but here I can pretend it’s just you and me, just a normal couple not having to worry about who’s trying to kill us, or whose next on our _To Kill_ list.”

Laurel smiled, this time it was a real one. She stroked his freshly shaved cheek and ran her thumb along the corner of his upturned mouth before giving him a grateful kiss. “Thank you, my love. You make me very happy.”

He shrugged. “It’s what I do. Still! No reason to waste a perfectly good opportunity to do absolutely nothing.” Alistair retrieved the rose and presented it to Laurel. Her pretty eyes lit up as she accepted it, giving a sigh as she inhaled it’s scent. “Would you like some wine?”

“If you’re buying.”

He winked. “Then make yourself comfy. Drinks are on me.”

Laurel slipped off her boots and joined him on the bed, snuggled into his side, as they drank their beverages. The night wore on as they talked about anything but archdemon doom and gloom stuff. Instead, she told him about growing up in her family home and how she and that war hound of her’s would get into the worst kind of trouble with her mother, especially when potential suitors were on the premises. In turn, he shared some embarrassing stories about being at the Chantry, like him trying to learn how to ride a horse (long story short, horses are big, strong, and have it in for him), and some of the gossip he’d picked up from their companions when she was out of earshot.

“You’re not serious,” she accused as she refilled their glasses for the third time. “He really said that to Wynn?”

“I am serious. And when Zevran had finished asking if her ‘magnificent’ bosom was perhaps ‘magical?’ she immediately tried to end it there. _He_ retorted that _she_ was the one whom wanted to have a serious conversation. She replied, that it was about his _past_ she wanted to discuss. He then replied...” Alistair cleared his throat to get the accent right: “ ‘Oh yes, there are many bosoms in my past, but not half as fine as yours’.”

They chortled so hard the bed shook, and Laurel almost spilled her fresh glass of wine. “I swear, that Crow has a death wish,” she said as she wiped the tears from her eyes. 

“I was amazed she didn’t clobber him right then and there. But I admit, it’s refreshing to see that woman blush from time to time. After all the blushing she’s made _me_ do.” 

“Oh?” she inquired as she propped herself up a little more to see his face. “How did she make you blush?” 

Alistair felt his ears start to turn pink. “How about a game of Wicked Grace? I think I have a deck around here somewhere…” He made a move to get up before Laurel pinned his shoulder down. 

“Oh no you don’t! Come on, tell me, I’m _desperate_ to know! Please please please?” 

He threw his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright!” he sighed. “You remember when I gave you that rose, before?” 

“Yes, of course. That was our first kiss.” 

Alistair smiled at the lovely memory before continuing. “Well, it wasn’t long after that that Wynn may have caught me… staring.” 

Laurel’s head tilted in confusion. “Staring at what?” 

He didn’t answer, but hid his slightly embarrassed face in his goblet as he took a long swig. 

Fortunately, he didn’t have to say it. “At me?” she supplied. He slightly nodded with a sheepish shrug. “So…” she leaned in to rest her chin on her folded hands on his chest. “… what part of me were you staring _at?_ ” 

Alistair coughed a little as a few drops of wine went down wrong. “Nothing!” he choked out. “That is nothing… specific.” The denial sounded weak even to himself, especially as he knew his face turned a healthy shade of salmon pink. 

“Ha!” she laughed. “You were staring at my arse, weren’t you?” 

His cheeks flushed darker. “I may have _glanced_ at your arse, but I wasn’t…” 

“So you weren’t at all hypnotized by my ‘swaying hips’?” 

Alistair balked at her as a memory stirred. Those had, indeed, been the exact words Wynn had used when she’d caught him looking a little too appreciatively at Laurel’s hind-quarters. 

“Hang on,” he said, putting his wine aside to give her his undivided attention, “you _heard_ us?” 

Laurel shrugged and pursed her lips. “I may have exaggerated my hips movements just a little for your benefit.” 

Alistair gasped in mocked shock. “You little vixen! To think you would tease a poor Templar boy to temptation with that ravishing backside of yours…” he gave her rump a playful slap. “If you were of a mind to, I’d put you across my knee and give you a good chastising.” 

Her white teeth gleemed as she smiled, looking him over suggestively. “Perhaps another time. But in my defense, you are rather fetching when you blush; I couldn’t resist teasing you just a little.” 

Alistair affectionately tucked a strand of her almost-dry hair behind her ear. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy how you tease me.” 

Laurel’s eyes darkened as she leaned in, her lips grazing his as she whispered. “Then I won’t ever stop tempting you, my sweet Templar.” The kiss was light, almost feathery, as she brushed her lips over his parted mouth. He could taste the wine on her breath and smell the soap in her hair; as much as he wanted to pull her against him and seek more, he resisted. Instead, he enjoyed the tingling in his suddenly sensitive lips and tried to ignore the pleasant little shiver it sent down his spine. As she inched away, Alistair instinctively followed, like a flower seeking the warmth of the sun, and had to stop himself mid-motion. She set her goblet on the table beside them. “Lie back,” she softly ordered. He did so without thinking, shifting his body down so he was lying flat on his back. He looked up at her and no sooner did he do so that she swooped down with a kiss; just as the first had been a ghosting caress, this one was deep and wet, her tongue stroking his own as if she were a cat and he was her bowl of cream. He softly moaned into her mouth as he felt his blood begin to rush downward; as helpless to stop his arousal as he was to resist the sweet, heady taste of her. He ran his fingers through her slightly damp hair and held her to him as she deepened the kiss further. Alistair almost purred as her hand traced down the length of his torso, and gave a small growl as she reached beneath the sheet and cupped his manhood. 

Alistair tore his lips away and captured her wrist. He had to remind himself she wasn’t feeling well, and although he didn’t want to deny any pleasure of hers, her teasing was going a little too far for his comfort. “Darling, you don’t have to…” 

“Shhhhh…” Laurel soothed. Her lips tickled his ear as she whispered hotly, “Let me take care of you.” Her hand gave a small squeeze. His eyes rolled back and softly closed as he released her wrist; her strong hands slowly massaging up and down as he hardened readily in her capable grasp. Meanwhile, her mouth opened to suck firmly on his neck; her teeth lightly biting as her hand moved. Alistair turned his head to give her better access and almost smiled as he lost himself in the ripples of pleasure coursing through him. She took her time, petting him in long strokes and gentle twists that made him arch into her touch. _Is this what heaven feels like?_ He mused in a hazy thought as Laurel peppered his chest and torso with kisses, all the while stroking him. _To spend eternity with someone you love? For them to touch you precisely how you like to be touched? To lay down all worries and hardships and spend countless days drinking and talking and –_

Alistair gasped as a new and startling sensation sent a bolt of mind numbing pleasure through him, taking his breath away as his eyes popped open in shock to look down. He found Laurel lying across his thigh, her mouth where her hand had been a moment ago as she licked him up and down. His face grew hot while his pulse thundered in his ears watching her tongue play with him, his tumescent member dark against her face as she lapped at every swollen inch, her lips sipping and her teeth grazing… He felt her hand gently squeeze his balls and he arched back with a loud blissful moan. Alistair’s eyes closed as every nerve in his body come alive under her mouth, every motion sending a delicious wave through him until all he could do was lie there like a wanton, panting mess. With a strangled groan he grabbed the bed board above him and held on tight as she rolled his balls and suckled his tip, drinking the dew that had began to weep there. Just when he thought it couldn’t get any better, she opened her mouth and dove down. 

Alistair’s grip on the bed board tightened as his other hand rested on her head. He felt her head bob up and down; her lips massaged him as her hot tongue stroked him and her hands pressed firmly down on his quivering belly. 

“Mmm… Laurel…” he moaned, his body desperate to move, even as her hands told him not to. She started at an easy pace, but soon she started to go faster. She moaned, and he felt the vibration go into his cock, making his breathe hitch. Faster still, she went, her wet mouth pulling him in shorter, rougher jerks; he clutched the bed board with both hands, his body shuddering with impending release as his heart beat hammered in his chest like a war drum. 

“I’m close…” he raggedly whimpered. “Laurel, I’m close…” he repeated it louder in case she didn’t hear him. In response, she stopped bobbing, and instead sucked him down her throat and began to swallow. The wood under his hands creaked under the strain of his grasp as a feral howl tore through Alistair’s throat, his body arching and his hips twitching as he erupted into her sweet mouth. 

Alistair panted heavy, moist breathes as he softly returned to earth and waited for his pulse to slow to a reasonable pace. He slowly became aware that Laurel was still gently suckling his rapidly softening member, unhurriedly milking him for every drop of spend. Once she finished, she gave his tired, but satisfied cock one last little kiss before coming up to lie beside him. 

“Wow,” he uttered, his brain incapable of complete sentences just yet. 

“You ok?” 

He couldn’t help but giggle a little. _That is the silliest question in the History of Silly Questions…_ “Peachy, why?” 

“You’re still holding onto the bed board.” 

Alistair blinked a few times and saw that she was correct; both hands were indeed still clutching the wood above his head. His brain told his hands to let go, but they seemed to be stuck… 

“… Do you need some help?” she asked, watching him. 

“Nope, I got it…” with a grunt he forced his fingers to pry themselves off. He wiggled his fingers, noticed they were a bit stiff, but in good working order. 

Laurel glanced at the board. “I think you may have left some finger marks on that thing.” 

“Must not be oak, then.” Now that his heartbeat was under control, and the daze was out of his eyes, he looked at Laurel properly. Her hair was frizzy from air drying, her cheeks were pink and her lips were fuller and darker than before. 

“What?” she asked, as he stared at her. He softly ran traced his fingertips across her flushed cheek. 

“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” 

She glowed and leaned her face into the palm of his hand. 

“Come here,” he whispered. 

Laurel leaned in; she hesitated a moment before relaxing into his kiss, and when he tasted her lips he understood why. 

“Hmm,” he thought as he tasted himself on her. “It’s a little bit… bitter?” 

“A little, but mostly salty.” 

“But you don’t, you know… mind?” 

She mulled it over. “On you I kind of like it. Especially since you have been so thoughtful, romantic and _very_ good to me.” 

“Sweet Maker, you are the best.” 

Laurel shrugged. “I know.” She winked. 

He kissed her and snuggled her close, sighing into her hair. “Although, speaking of which, is there anything I can do for _you?_ ” 

“Hmm, how about one of your famous foot massages and then sleep?” 

He smiled into her hair. “You’re wish is my command, my love.” 


	3. Dubious but Worldly

Alistair walked through the brush into the open but found nothing. There were trees, some shrubs, a few elfroots, and the creek, and nothing more. “Hmm…” he sighed. He rubbed his neck in confusion as he looked around. Leliana had told him she’d seen Zevran go this way, but now the elf was nowhere to be found. 

_Perhaps he took a turn somewhere –_

“ _Ouch!_ ” Alistair exclaimed as something hard bounced off his head. He rubbed the sore spot as he looked around for what hit him and found a lone acorn resting on the ground beside him.

“Hello!” The accent was unmistakable, and Alistair swung his gaze up to a nearby tree, in which Zevran the assassin sat comfortably perched amongst the foliage, looking down at him with his usual smirk. “You look lost, my friend. If it is the camp you seek, it is in the other direction.”

Alistair frowned at his implication that he would lose the camp. _Please, like I would do_ that _again_. “Actually, I was looking for you.”

With the eerie grace of a bobcat, the elf swung to the ground. “Oh?” he casually inquired. Zevran’s gaze turned preditory as he noiselessly stalked towards Alistair like a wolf. “Perhaps you have changed your mind and would care to have a tattoo after all? I have some lovely oils for your massage to prep your taunt, and youthful skin…” 

“No! No it’s not that.” Alistair gulped uncomfortably. “I just wanted to ask you about something.”

Zevran’s eyes roamed the length of Alistair’s body once more before clicking his tongue to his teeth. “Pity.” In an instant the predator was gone and he was his mysteriously smirky self again. “But of course, you are free to ask me anything. And, of course, I am free to answer nothing.”

Alistair rolled his eyes. _Ok, you’re a sexy enigma, we get it. For Andraste’s sake, tone it down._

“Ok, so, I was hoping… well, things are going great with Laurel, of course… at least I _think_ they are, since I’ve never… anyway, I thought maybe… I mean, you seem to know _a lot_ about women and their bodies and I… well… “

“Oh my,” drawled Zevran, his eyes shining with glee. “Is the naïve and virtuous Grey Warden asking the dubious but worldly token elf for advice on how to pleasure his _woman?_ ”

Alistair blushed. “You know what, nevermind. Bad idea.” He turned, ready to pick up what was left of his pride and skedaddle.

Zevran gave a hearty laugh before easily catching him with a hand on his shoulder. “Alistair wait! I only tease, I assure you. Please, come and sit.” With an arm around him, Zevran guided the Warden, stiff and dark with embarrassment, back towards the creek. The elf was all smiles as he affectionately clapped Alistair’s armored shoulder. “On the subject of physical love, my friend, my mind is an open book. You may ask me anything you’d like. Sit sit sit.” He sat down upon a smooth rock and gestured for Alistair to join him. With a final long sigh, Alistair complied, already regretting his decision to come here.

“Now then, my young pupil. What do you wish to know?” asked Zevran, looking way too pleased with himself.

Alistair looked at him suspiciously. “First of all, you don’t breathe a word of this to anyone. Especially not to Laurel. This stays between us, understand?”

The assassin placed his hand over his heart and gave a small and solemn bow. “I pledge my silence, and may the dread wolf take me if I should break my vow.”

Alistair wasn’t sure how binding that pledge was, but ultimately he decided to risk it anyway. “Ok, so, last week Laurel did this thing… A really nice thing. She made me… well she brought me too…” Alistair rolled his hand awkwardly.

“To _ecstasy?_ ” supplied Zevran.

Alistair nodded. “Yes! That. But this time she did it… well, with her mouth.”

The elf grinned with a sigh of comprehension. “Ahh, yes, I know of what you speak.” He leaned in. “Tell me, what did you think, hmm?”

The flashback of her hot mouth around his cock while he writhed helplessly underneath her shot through him like a white hot arrow…

“It felt so good, I thought my heart would stop,” he confessed.

Zevran nodded. “Some call it ‘the little death.’ But if you live through it, you feel more alive than ever.”

Alistair couldn’t help but agree. He scooted a little closer to Zevran and leaned in. “So anyway, I was wondering: how does one do that to a lady…?”

 

————————————

 

Alistair sat and stared pensively at the fire while the rest of the company went about their nightly routine. Sten was sharpening his sword, Oghren was drinking, Leliana and Zevran were playing cards together and Wynn was reading a book Laurel had brought her. Shale was conversing with the dog, and Laurel was currently chatting with Morrigan; they were too far away to be heard since Morrigan insisted on having her own little campsite away from the rest of them. Maybe it was a noise factor thing, but a part of him doubted the witch slept at all, let along cared about listening to their snores. She most likely just hates people.

He resumed his staring contest with the fire and silently replayed his conversation with Zevran. He hoped to the Maker that the elf wasn’t just out to make mischief by playing him for a fool. At the time it had seemed sincere, but he supposed he wouldn’t know until he tried. 

Alistair scooped up another bite off of his plate but was startled to find his fork empty. He glanced down to see his entire dinner gone. _Funny, I don’t remember eating that much…_

Long arms hugged him from behind and soft lips tickled his ear. “Hey, handsome,” said the melodic voice of his beloved. 

He leaned against her with a smile and lovingly stroked her bare hand. “Hey, yourself.”

“You’ve been quiet this evening. Everything ok?”

“Fine. Just thinking, but nothing serious.”

“Hmm,” Laurel hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t know… You thinking seems pretty serious to me.”

“Cheeky.” He playfully pinched her hand in retaliation and she smacked his chest with a giggle. 

“Did you get enough to eat?” she inquired.

Alistair put his plate to the side. “Yep, all finished.”

Her breath gave him goosebumps as she lowly murmured in his ear. “Then what do you say to an early night, hmm?” She suggestively nipped his ear, the graze of her teeth sending a familiar shiver down his spine. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it.

“My tent or yours?” he asked as his voice dropped an octave.

“Whichever one’s closer.”

They left the campfire hand in hand. Turns out the closest tent just so happened to be hers.

As soon as their armor and clothing were put aside, they were lying in each other’s arms. The warmth of their skin came together, their lips slowly merged in a sensual dance as their hands caressed over their rapidly stimulated bodies.

Laurel’s hand moved between them, heading straight for his stiffening member, but he caught it in time. In fact, he captured both of her hands and firmly held them on either side of her head just before moving his hips against hers in a slow and delicious grind. Her lips parted in a low murmur of pleasure. “Mmm, Ali…” she whispered, her pelvis tilting into his as he felt her become increasingly wetter.

Her hips lifted up, her leg tipping the balance as she attempted to roll them over into their favorite position. Normally he would eagerly let her straddle him and ride him like a stallion while he drank in the sight of her writhing on top of him, but not tonight. He had other plans for her.

 _She is a woman of responsibility and command,_ drawled Zevran’s voice from earlier. _But that does not mean one does not occasionally enjoy_ being _commanded. Keep it playful, but be assertive…_

Alistair pushed back, using his weight to pin her hips back down to the cot. “Stay,” he ordered.

Laurel chuckled lustfully as she relaxed her hips again, but ran her toes up and down his backside, making him shiver. “My word…” she drawled while arching seductively beneath him. “Held captive in my own tent… Should I scream or be excited?”

He grinned down at her. “Hopefully both.”

With a wicked smile she briefly captured his bottom in her teeth and gave a low growl. A primal shudder went straight to his cock as she slowly released him. “What did you have in mind?”

“Shhh…” he placed a finger across her lips to gently shush her. “No spoilers.” He replaced his finger with his lips, his tongue playfully sipping her before moving his way down. He paused at her breasts to knead and suckle them as she sighed pleasantly, her fingers lightly combing his hair until he moved on. He tried to go slow, to take his time, but he was eager, practically aquiver in anticipation; soon he had kissed his way to the intimate juncture between her thighs. He stopped and stared, for this was the first time he saw what, before now, he had only felt with his fingers and cock. 

It was… different from what he had imagined. Petals within petals, but open and dark red, almost like a wound; it glistened with arousal and had a light musky scent. His brain tried to make sense of it, of how this little bit of flesh managed to make his lover feel so much...

_You may feel like an explorer discovering a new region. Rest assured, my friend, every woman’s flower is a mystery to be solved, unique in taste, texture and sensation, but it is always a mystery worth solving…_

He now had an idea what Zevran had meant. Alistair leaned in, and gingerly kissed her. He heard her sigh as he continued to tenderly kiss the part of her that had given him such pleasure. As he did so, his mouth had become very wet. On instinct he licked them, surprised to find it salty yet sweet and a little lemony. _That’s… actually pretty nice..._ Alistair stuck out his tongue and took a gentle lick. Her muscles twitched as she whimpered. Worried he had harmed her, he looked up. Her head was tilted back, and her breathe was uneven. He observed her expression as he opened his mouth further, this time taking a stronger swipe over her nub. Her reaction was immediate, her mouth opened in an excited gasp as her chest arched and her legs briefly tightened, her hands grasping at the pillow under her head. He smiled in relief. He’d seen that face before, and more of her fragrant essence came forth. _Oooh, she liked that…_

Feeling more confident now, Alistair went on to taste her all over. He ran his tongue along the crease between her outer petals and the nub inside, collecting more of the delicious dew she was producing. He went lower to probe at her entrance; as he tasted along the rim, her hips suddenly pushed into him. His hands held her steady, but he took the hint and let his tongue slip inside. Alistair groaned as a sharp ache of arousal shot down to his cock, as if it was jealous of his tongue being inside her instead of it, for it felt as though her body tried to suck him in deeper as he made love to her with his mouth. Alistair felt himself grinding against the tent floor in an attempt to relieve some of the ache, but of course it only inflamed him further…

Alistair covered her in hot kisses, his own arousal making him moan against her carnal lips. He looked up to check on Laurel, and saw she had vanished – her pillow was covering her face as her hands clutched it in tight fists. She was shuddering, he could see it rippling through her and knew she must be close. Alistair opened his mouth wide over her nethers and lapped at her. Laurel’s hands clutched tighter, her thighs opened further and she became slicker with every swipe of his tongue. Soon she started to shake, and he could hear the muffled sounds coming from under her pillow. He pressed his tongue more firmly against her and started to grind her nub with his tongue. Her thighs tried to close around him, but he held her down and kept going, even as she tried to rut into his mouth. Soon a sharp, muffled cry came from under the pillow and her body tightened for an instant in a long shudder, before melting with an inaudible sigh.

Alistair stretched his jaw and licked his lips in triumph. Then remembered Zevran’s advise.

_And remember, my friend, once is good. But twice is better…_

Alistair dove right in, finding her wetter than ever, practically gushing, and took her nub between his lips and suckled her.

Her legs twitched as they came back to life, and in a moment her hands were grasping at her pillow once more, and her hips wriggling against him. He replaced his lips with his tongue and licked her incessantly until he had her keening into her pillow as she came once more.

Alistair absently wiped his mouth to see Laurel had worked up a healthy sweat from exertion; she had removed her pillow and her face was flushed as she fought for breathe, her eyes shut in helpless bliss. _I did this…_ he thought victoriously. _Now she knows what it’s like every time I’m with her._

Somehow his cock grew even harder, the sensation bringing him back to his own need as he shivered. He lifted her legs, placid and loose, and placed them onto his shoulders. He positioned himself above her, her feet over her head, and in one solid thrust he gave her all of him. Her eyes popped open in a surprised gasp as her body sucked him inside with no resistance. 

_She will be more than ready for you by the time you take her. Let go. Let her feel how much you want her and give her all of you. She is a warrior, strong and built for battle; do not be shy and timid. A little rough can accentuate the pleasure…_

Alistair rammed into her with authority, the angle of her hips taking him deeper than she ever had before as he took her, his thrusts pushing her into the ground as her legs on his shoulders leveraged her up again. Her breathe was coming out in harsh pants, but he could tell it was not from pain. Alistair widened his legs a little and thrust shorter and sharper. Laurel cried out, and her hands grappled for the pillow as she pulled it to her face. Alistair released one leg to reach up and tore it from her hands, tossing it across the tent, before bearing down at a punishing pace. Laurel clutched at him instead, her one leg down curled around his hip as she met him thrust for thrust. She was starting to quake, her sensual face tightened in heightened sensation; she buried her open mouth upon his neck as she started to smother her passionate moans against him. _No, your face... let me see your face..._ He took a large handful of her hair and firmly tilted her head back, the quick jerk from his wrist eliciting a sharply sensual whimper from Laurel as he drank in the sight of her unraveling underneath him. No longer having anything to muffle her sounds, she began to cry out in time with their thrusts until her nails bit into his shoulders and she started to shout in elation.

“ _Ah... Ah! Alistair! Ooh… Ah! Ahh!..._ ”

His vision blurred and his eyes rolled back into his head. _Fuck… oh fuck!_ She was clenching him so hard, he thought he might pass out. He was pouring sweat, his lungs were on fire, and he could hear the sound of their moist bodies slapping against each other. He wanted to come, burned for it, ached for it, felt like he could die from not having it, but he kept going, his hips rutting into her heat as she went wild beneath him, scratching him and clinging to him as her mouth opened wide and she let out a rapturous scream as she shattered around him.

_Let her hear your passion, my friend. There is nothing better than bringing your love to ecstasy, except perhaps, going with them…_

A growl came out, hoarse and primal. He didn’t know where it came from but it tore out of him, part animal part man. Alistair groaned as he chased his climax, every move bringing him closer until he exploded with a long shout, his hips grinding as he erupted inside of her. 

His blood was singing through his body as he fought for breath, his arms burning as he locked them to keep from collapsing. Alistair gave her calf a little kiss before lowering her leg from his shoulder. He used what was left of his strength to lean slightly to the side as he sank to the ground beside her.

Laurel sighed. “Oh Ali…”

He forced his eyes open. Laurel’s eyes were still closed, a dopey little smile on her blissful face as her body continued to shiver.

Alistair wiped the curls from her sweat damp face. “You’re trembling.”

She lovingly pet his arm and smiled. “It’s alright. It’s a good tremble…” Laurel pulled his head down and gave him a gentle kiss. “I love you…” she said wistfully. 

“I love you,” he replied, his heart full and happy. He leaned back as she snuggled into him, lightly stroking her back soothingly as they recuperated. 

“You beautiful man, you _are_ full of surprises…” she purred, curling into him like a sleepy yet satisfied kitten.

“That’s me,” he chuckled. “Unpredictable.” In a few moments, he noticed her breath had changed, and he looked down to see she had fallen asleep. _That was new…_ She rarely passed out that fast.

Alistair pulled the blankets up over them as best he could without moving her, before settling in. He gave a long sigh. His jaw was sore, he observed; his shoulders stung where her nails had scratched him, he was sure his cock was going to be tender to the touch by morning, and he was covered in sweat and all kinds of fluids, feeling in great need of a bath. 

He grinned in the dark, glowing with pride and never feeling better in his life. No doubt they were going to get dirty looks from the rest of the company for being so obnoxiously amorous, but at the moment he couldn’t bring himself to care.

 _Well_ , he thought, _I think I owe a certain elf a very big bar of gold..._


	4. The Dark Ritual

Alistair aimlessly walked around the room, Riodhan’s words looping around in his mind over and over, driving him batty. He needed to stop. He paused to sit on the edge of the bed, but no sooner did he sit that he was up pacing in circles again. 

Riodhan had said he would kill the archdemon, that he took that responsibility unto himself and would die so he and Laurel would not have to. Alistair had been shocked, of course. Duncan had never told him that little tidbit of information - - that the only way to slay the archdemon was for a Grey Warden to die in the process. Alistair was grateful that Riodhan was willing to complete the task, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of something going horribly wrong. The niggling doubt sent an involuntary surge of anxiety through him at the thought of having to do it himself. Or worse yet, if Laurel had to…

 _No._ He shook his head, rejecting the idea entirely. He could not let that happen, and it wouldn’t. Alistair knew if it came down to it, he would cut off that thing’s head and take its foul essence inside him in a heartbeat if it meant keeping Laurel safe. But that was not the issue: knowing her, she would not be content to stand by and let him sacrifice himself. That brave and precious woman would do whatever she could to save him, even if the price was her own life. Down to his core, he knew it was true. And he loved and hated that about her.

 _But if I was to lose her, only my shell would live on. I’m not sure there would be anything left of me…_ He would have to keep the old man safe to do the slaying, then; there was no other answer. Perhaps it was selfish of him, but Alistair hoped that Riodhan was the only sacrifice they would have to make.

A knock on his door stilled his thoughts. “Come in.”

The door opened and Laurel walked in. Her face was supporting a heavy frown; she must be worried about tomorrow, as well. Perhaps they could cheer each other up. He put aside his grave thoughts and worked up a smile for her.

“I see you can’t sleep either. I also saw Morrigan outside your room earlier, and the look she gave me… that was icy even for her. Is something up?”

“Alistair, we need to talk.”

Alistair may not have a lot of experience with relationships, but he knew enough that any conversation starting with the words ‘we need to talk’ was probably going to be about something he hated… “Oh, I guess whatever Morrigan had to say, it’s big.” He sighed, eyes rolling dramatically. “This is what I get for becoming king. Everyone always brings you the bad news.” He crossed his arms and put his comfy cushion of snark and sarcasm around him like a babe with its blankey. “So what is it, then? Rats running amok? Cheese supplies run low? I can take it.”

Bright teeth flashed as she nervously bit her lip, her fists clenching and releasing at her sides. “I love you,” she said softly, her eyes looking up at him almost… pleading. “You know that, right?”

 _Uh oh…_ “Could you make it sound more ominous? Tell me, already.”

Laurel looked at her hands as she drew a deep breath. “What if I told you there was a way to avoid dying tomorrow?”

His brows quirked with interest. “You mean with the archdemon, right? If you mean running away, I can’t do that. But you don’t mean that, do you? What is this about?”

She paused, straightened her back to look him square in the eye, and said the last thing he ever expected to come out of her mouth:

“You need to sleep with Morrigan. As part of a magic ritual.”

It took a moment to register, but once it did, a bark of laughter chortled through Alistair so hard he had to support himself on the bedpost from the stitch developing in his side. Relief poured through him as he caught his breath and wiped the tears from his eyes. _Oh Maker’s balls, I needed that..._ “Cute. This is payback, right? For all the jokes?” He noticed the solemn look on his beloved’s face, and he felt the color begin to drain from his. “But… you’re not joking. You’re actually serious.” Unable to keep still, he started to pace, pointedly not looking at Laurel. “Wow, be killed by an archdemon or sleep with Morrigan. How does someone make that kind of choice?” He said it ironically, but in that moment, he honestly couldn’t comprehend which contingency was worse… Alistair halted and turned to her. “You’re not actually asking me this, are you? What kind of ritual is this, anyway?”

She went still as stone, but there was a slight tremble in her gaze. “I won’t lie to you, it will produce a child.”

“WHAT?!” he bellowed, shock quickly giving way to anger. “I… I must be hearing things, but are you telling me to _impregnate_ Morrigan in some kind of magical sex rite?!” _This is insane, utterly and completely insane. Why… why…?_ “This… child… why would Morrigan want such a thing? Does she want an heir to the throne?”

“I think she wants to make some sort of Old God,” she replied, her voice even and contemplative.

He laughed to the walls, feeling anything but humorous. “Oh. Well that’s so much _better,_ don’t you think? Here I was concerned about creating another bastard heir and I didn’t even _consider_ that it might also be some dragon… god… whatever!” Suddenly in need of some space, Alistair stomped to the back of the room. _How could she? How could she ask this of him, how could she even consider…?_

He turned and opened his mouth to demand the answer to that very question, but when he saw Laurel’s carefully masked gaze, he gave pause. Her stance, her eyes… If he had not known her this long, been through all they had together, and hadn’t taken the time to memorize every soft curve and fine line of her strong and lovely face, Alistair may have mistaken her stony façade as indifference. But there it was, the underlining misery she was trying desperately not to show. He had seen it when she first told him about what happened to her family, when Duncan and the Grey Wardens had been slaughtered, when Riodhan told them the secret to destroying the archdemon, and he was seeing it now. Alistair felt some of the anger drain out of him, leaving him tired and raw. He sat heavily in the chair by the writing desk, his shoulders sloping forward with the weight of her request. “Look, even if I was willing to entertain this idea… and I’m not saying I am… is this really what you want me to do? Are you sure…?”

Alistair watched as the stoic mask cracked, and Laurel suddenly became as calm and as placid as a hurricane.

“ _No!_ You know what, no! I don’t want this. I never wanted to be a Grey Warden, but then one fine day, my family is murdered. Duncan drags me off to join the Wardens, and I consider myself lucky to be alive – little do I know that I have to drink the blood of a darkspawn, with only a fifty/fifty chance of surviving, by the way. Then, by some miracle, I survive the Joining, and I think ‘Wonderful! The worst is done, now I can avenge my parents.’ Oh, but wait, there’s more. Then I’m told that, although I can now sense darkspawn, now they can sense _me_ right back! I thought, fine, inconvenient, but fine. Oh, and by the way, the taint is slowly killing you, so you’ll only get about 30 more years to live before you eventually turn into a ghoul or worse. And just when I start to come to terms with _that_ little parting gift, I come here and find out the final piece of bad news, that the only way to kill an archdemon and stop the blight is to _die._ And there are only three of us left.” She laughed bitterly. “You know, it makes perfect sense to me now why the Wardens keep these rituals a secret, because if anyone went in with full disclosure, no one would be crazy enough to do it, because on a biblical level, this job SUCKS!”

Laurel’s shout echoed in the room as she trembled with rage. He wanted to go to her, comfort her, hold her in his arms and tell her everything would be alright. But this was not the time. She looked like she wanted to bloody something, not be told sweet nothings…

“You know what the craziest part is?” She asked, her voice suddenly soft. Laurel slowly turned and looked him in the eye. “If I was to go back in time to that moment and Duncan offered me that chalice… I would take it. Even knowing what I know now, I would do it all over again. Because… I found you. Because you are the best, the most important… the purest thing to come out of this whole fucking mess.” In a moment, she was beside him. She knelt down placing a cool hand on his knee as she gazed up at his face, her sad eyes shining with love and the beginnings of tears. “You are my best friend, and you are the love of my life. I know that you are going to make a great king, Alistair. There’s nothing I want more than to rule beside you and help you make Ferelden a better place; to spend what time I have left with you and your dumb jokes and amazing foot massages. I can’t… lose you, not yet.” Her voice broke, and he felt his heart bleed. 

Alistair gently covered her hand with his, willing his warmth to her. “Riodhan –“

“Was a great warrior, but he’s too weak. He said so himself – the taint will soon take him. If he fails, it will be down to you and me. Those odds aren’t… good, my love. I know how you feel about Morrigan, but I trust her, and she believes this will work. I would pay the price, if I could. But I have to ask you to pay it for us. So, yes. This is what I want. And I’m asking you, please, to trust me.” Laurel wiped at her eyes before she held his hand between hers, and made her final plea.

“You need to trust me.”

The way she was looking at him was breaking his heart, so Alistair looked down at her hands in his own. He loved her hands. They were smaller than his, but the fingers were long and strong. Her callouses matched his own, and her bones were more delicate but anything but fragile. There was so much of her in her hands: strength and feminine grace. Resilient and gentle. These hands had saved lives as well as taken them, and he loved her hands…

“I do trust you,” he whispered. “If this is what you think is best… I’ll do it.” Alistair groaned in dread, the words sticking unpleasantly to the back of his throat. _Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it…_ He stood abruptly while Laurel still knelt upon the floor. “Where is she? Let’s go and get this over with before I… change my mind.” Determined to not give himself a chance to back down, he headed to the door. After a moment, he heard Laurel close behind as they went to her room where the witch awaited them.

 

——————————————

 

They found her standing by the grand fireplace staring at the roaring fire blazing within. She turned when she heard their approach. Morrigan spared Alistair an indifferent glance before speaking directly to Laurel.

“Ahh, ‘twould seem your talk is done?”

“Great. So this isn’t a dream after all,” grumbled Alistair.

“What is it to be, then?” The witch replied, pointedly ignoring his remark. “Has a decision been reached?”

“Alistair has agreed to your… request,” Laurel said, her face and voice once again carefully hiding the emotions she had displayed only a few minutes before.

“Wait.” Alistair interjected. “I want to ask about this… child. The one you… want.”

Morrigan’s eyebrows raised in surprise at Laurel. “Interesting. Honesty wouldn’t have been my first choice.”

He continued. “I just want to be sure you’re not going to use this - - against Ferelden. That this bastard child of mine isn’t going to show up some year…”

“Of that you have my word.” 

Alistair gave a heavy sigh.“Why don’t I feel any better about this?” Did he believe her? He wanted to. “All right. Let’s… just get this over with.”

For moment, Morrigan looked almost relieved. Or perhaps it was a brief look of resignation. Maybe both? It was hard to tell through her reptilian demeanor. _And I’m supposed to take_ that _to bed…_ His palms were starting to sweat, and a sick flutter was coiling around in his belly. 

“Let us go somewhere more private, Alistair.” Morrigan walked past him, her body close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating off of her. “And believe me when I say you will not hate it quite so much as you believe.” The promise sent a weird chill down his spine. Alistair put his head down and followed her like a herded druffalo. Afraid he might lose his resolve, he resisted the urge to look back at Laurel, and left her standing in her chambers.

 

——————————————-

 

Alistair sat naked upon the bed, a nervous sweat breaking out over his skin as Morrigan undressed. He didn’t want to watch, but his eyes kept being drawn to her, her pale skin almost luminescent in the dark corner as she removed more of her clothing. His lips were dry. He tried to lick them, but found his mouth had gone dry as well. What he wouldn’t give for a huge barrel of wine to get drunk with right now…

Clad only in her underwear, Morrigan slowly turned, and moved towards him. She stalked from the shadows into the firelight and he could see the glimmer of her eerily golden eyes, her hips swaying and her hands suggestively running over her skin…

Alistair felt a small unbidden twitch in his member. He instinctively covered himself with a corner of the blanket so she wouldn’t see.

She held his gaze as she climbed onto the bed and crawled towards him, her breasts barely contained in her underthings… The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and he squirmed in his seat, his brain wanting desperately to flee and the traitor between his legs giving another twinge.

Morrigan crawled up his body. She saw the blanket over his lap and moved it aside; he blushed uncomfortably and looked away in shame, his sweating palms fighting the urge to cover himself as she looked at him. She straddled him, her skin unusually warm. _Funny, I always imagined her with skin cool as a cobra, not hot as a drake..._ Her hands drew his attention back and he saw her reach for the clasp of her brassier. 

“Don’t!” he said urgently. “Leave it on.”

She looked at him blankly for a long moment before moving her hands away. “As you wish,” she replied coolly. His thankfulness was short lived when she leaned towards him. In a moment her face was a breath away from his own and Alistair had a panicked thought that she was going to kiss him…! Much to his relief, she turned her head at the last moment and blew out the candle by his head instead, casting them in darkness but for the light coming from the fireplace.

“Right,” he mumbled to himself. “ _That_ should help…” Alistair didn’t realize he had spoken aloud until Morrigan’s hand shot out and gave him a swift slap on the face.

Alistair held his stinging cheek as he gaped at her in stunned fury. “What the hell was _that_ for!?”

“Stop acting like a petulant child, you agreed to this.”

“Under _duress!_ ” he exclaimed.

Morrigan rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Do you really think I want this any more than you do? That every cutting remark and every condescension was my way of _pining_ for you? I can assure you, it was not.”

“Well good! At long last, how nice to know we have something in common : we hate each other!”

“‘Tis not the only thing we have in common.”

“Is it ‘we both like cheese’?”

“ _Shut up._ ” She didn’t shout. She didn’t have to. Her tone alone cut through his snark as assuredly as a hot knife through butter. “I mean, you fool, that we both love Laurel.”

Alistair’s head tilted in confusion. “Wait, you mean… like ‘love’ as in…?” His words trailed off, allowing her to fill in the blanks. She did. In response, she gave his arm a solid smack. “ _Ow!_ Stop it!” _Damnation, if this was her version of foreplay…_

“Not that kind of love, idiot! This may come as a surprise to you, but I do not have friends.”

“ _Shocking,_ ” he sniped. Morrigan’s hand pressed hard at his sternum, sending his head back with a snap against the headboard. Her snake eyes were smoldering like hot coals as she leaned in with a dangerous look. As skinny as she was, she was surprisingly strong. Even so, hand to hand he could probably take her in a fight. However, he had seen her wield her magic against their enemies, and she did not pull her punches. All she would have to do was pin him down with a spell and she could turn into a giant spider or something and finish him off. Alistair gritted his teeth, shut his mouth and didn’t raise a finger.

“As I was saying…” she said with an edge of menace. “I had no knowledge of friendship, nor did I have need of it. My time and training in the Wilds was put to practical use, interacting with others only when there was something to gain. Then one day a group of Grey Wardens recruits came bumbling in. ‘Twas nothing new; they had come before and never held my attention for long. And yet... I was intrigued to see such a formidable woman, obviously more potent than the men she traveled with.” She spared him a demeaning look and he frowned back in annoyance. “Yet I resented it when Flemeth assigned me to travel with her. I assumed that, at best, I would be driven from the company as soon as we left the Wilds.” Morrigan’s eyes softened. “Yet when I discovered Flemeth’s plans, she did not abandon me. Whatever her reasons, she fought what had to be a terrible battle without hope of real reward. She said she did it out of ‘friendship’, and that is what I could not understand.” The witch gently shook her head in disbelief. “Of all the things I could have imagined would have resulted when Flemeth told me to go with her, the very last would be that I would find in her a friend. Perhaps even a sister.” Her voice trailed off. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say she was close to tears. Alistair watched in fascination as this creature who had belittled him, bullied him, and looked at him as though he was little better than a crushed dung beetle stuck to the bottom of her shoe, transformed before his very eyes into something… human. 

He had known that Laurel cared about Morrigan, and even trusted her. It had never occurred to him that her feelings had been mutual.

In a blink, the vulnerability of Morrigan’s eyes disappeared, and she leaned in close. His pulse sped up as the hand on his chest slid slowly up the line of his neck, her fingers splayed across the side of his jaw with the dark painted tips gripping at once threatening and enticing. She came so close he could taste her breath through his parted lips…

“I value her friendship. I would lie, steal, and kill for her. And I love her so, that if ‘twould save her life I would even lay with someone I detest.” Challenge burned in her eyes like golden fire. “Would you?”

Alistair met her glare for glare as they stared hard at one another. Then in a flash he wrapped his arm around her slender waist, bringing her against him as he rolled her onto her back. Her legs opened readily as he came between them and, without hesitation, began to grind...

———————————————

 

The hallway was quiet as Alistair made his way back to the room, his bare feet padding softly against the frigid stone floor as he carried his armor with him. He threw open his door with a bang, scaring to death the poor elf servant tending his fire, her sudden shriek making him jump.

“Oh! My Lord Alistair, forgive me, you gave me such a fright!”

“Have you no idea what time it is?” he snapped. “What are you doing alone in a man’s bedchamber this time of night anyway? You should be off safely tucked in bed.”

“I… Do pardon me, my lord, the door was open and the fire – “

“Never mind. While you’re up, fetch me water for a bath. As hot as possible.”

“Yes, my lord, right away!” She scurried out the door closing it behind her. Alistair threw his armor unceremoniously to the floor, making him swear painfully as one of the pieces fell upon his bare toe. He threw the offending piece into the rest of the pile, before limping to the chair by the fire and sat his miserable self into it. There he sat and stewed, his hand rubbing the back of his neck and he forced himself to relax.

_“Don’t stop...”_

Her husky voice rang through his head and sent an uncomfortable shiver down his spine, even as the memory of moving inside her brought forth a pleasant tingle, and a healthy dose of shame to wash it down with.

He gritted his teeth stared into the fire, the light burning into his unblinking eyes as the flames seemed to dance mockingly before him. As Alistair stared at the hypnotic movement, his mind began to wander and remember…

 

_Alistair closed his eyes and focused on the sweet ache of his groin. He was rough as he ground his pelvis into hers, more so than he had intended, but the friction soon had him hard and ready. He reached down without looking and felt for her underwear, hoping to push it aside enough to gain access to her entrance, but the flimsy slip of cloth ended up tearing in his hand like tissue paper…_

_As he pushed the ripped underthing aside his fingers brushed against her, coming away wet. She slightly flinched at the touch, but made no sound. He tried not to think about it, and positioned himself high onto his arms so the only thing touching her was his member as he plunged into her. He kept his eyes squeezed tight as he plundered her heat, her nethers becoming moist with every stroke as he kept the tempo penetrating and quick._ Maker, she feels like she’s burning inside, like fire made flesh… _Alistair’s breathing was becoming harsh through his nose, but he was afraid if he relaxed his jaw he might start to moan…_

_Alistair started when he suddenly felt something strange. He opened eyes to see a dark violet mist collect over the two of them. He looked down at Morrigan and saw amethyst spirals begin to glow along her skin; through her hooded eyes he could see her gold iris’s burn as bright at torches in a fog.._

_“What’s happening?” He gasped._

_“Don’t stop,” she commanded, locking her ankles around his hips to keep him from escaping._

_Honestly, he might not have been able to anyway. The dark cloud swirled over him and it felt as though a thousand warm and tingling fingers ran over and through him. Caressing him, stroking him, ghosting along his skin as his throbbing cock continued to mindlessly thrust into her feverish body, lost in the feeling as his eyes closed in bliss, and he sighed in pleasure._

_Solid hands wrapped around his wrists, and when Alistair looked down he saw Morrigan’s head tilt back with a small sound, almost a sensual whimper. Her legs and nethers tightened around him; he groaned deep in his chest and with an intense shudder he came, his arms shook as he rode out his release and poured everything into her._

_With a gasp of air, he was finished, and his jaw relaxed as he caught his breath. He could feel the sweat run from his brow down the side of his face and down his back. Alistair opened his heavy lids, and found Morrigan softly gazing back at him. The dark mist was gone, and the patterns on her skin had disappeared, and she looked like herself again. She wasn’t flushed, or breathing hard, her hair wasn’t even messed up._ That is so strange, _he thought._ Every time he and Laurel would – 

_Her name splashed in his face like ice cold water. He pushed himself off of Morrigan and sat at the edge of the bed with his back turned to her._

_“Is that all?” He asked bluntly, his voice flat._

_There was a long pause. “Yes,” she replied._

_The moment she said it, Alistair launched himself off the bed and went straight for his clothing. He roughly put on his shirt and britches before hastily gathering up the rest of his belongings. Without sparing her a single glance, Alistair stormed out of the room to leave the witch to her dark bidding._

 

And now here he was, brooding at the fireplace, awash with guilt and anger. Angry at Morrigan for doing the blasted ritual, angry at Laurel for making him do the fucking ritual, and angry at himself. Himself most of all. He had sworn a long time ago that he would never sire a bastard, and he had promised himself that Laurel would be his one and only. He had broken both that night. For one weak, hazy moment, he had even forgotten about Laurel. How could he have forgotten about Laurel? And with a woman he never even contemplated having sex with until he was inside her. 

_They wanted this,_ he reminded himself. _Laurel begged you to do this for her. Everything you did, you did for her._ It was true, that was the only way he could bring himself to get naked and lie on that bed in the first place. He couldn’t bear to think of Laurel at the time, because Morrigan could never be her. Even if she had the ability to _look_ like Laurel, she could never be her. Perhaps he thought if he just kept his eyes closed and didn’t think about anything he could get through it as blankly and impersonally as if he was touching himself… 

_Instead, that magic mist, or whatever it was, started fondling me and I –_ He stopped himself from thinking it, the shame stabbing into him like a well oiled blade.

A gentle knock came upon the door. “Come in.”

The door opened and the face of the servant from earlier peeked in. “Beg your pardon, my lord.” She said carefully. “I’ve the water for your bath.”

Alistair nodded, having nearly forgotten. “Thank you.”

She came inside, leading the other two servants behind her, all carrying two steaming buckets apiece. They deposited the water into the tub, placed a fresh towel beside the bath, then left with the empty pails. All but the elf girl, whom watched them leave before turning to him. She hesitated a moment, then quietly spoke. “Umm, my lord…?”

“Yes?”

She walked up to him, her eyes meekly glued to the floor. “I beg pardon for my rudeness, my lord… but I noticed you had been carrying your armor, and whatnot, and well, you see while we were coming down the hall we found this…” She pulled something out from her skirt. “Does… this belong to you…?”

Alistair looked over, and in her hand was his underwear, neatly folded with his initials sewn upon it, just like every good Templar boy should. He felt his face burn dark with embarrassment. _Oh for fuck’s sake, just when I thought this night couldn’t get any worse…_

He lightly snatched the garment from her hand and hurriedly stuffed it into his pocket. “Thank you,” he sputtered.

To her credit, she made no comment. “Is there anything else you require, my lord?”

He thought for a moment and cleared his throat. “Actually yes.” Alistair stood. “What is your name?”

“Nigella, my lord.”

“Nigella, I would like to apologize for snapping at you earlier. It’s been… a weird night. Anyway, I took it out on you, and I’m sorry.”

A soft blush touched her cheeks and she gave him a shy smile. “There’s no need, my lord. You and the others fight for us tomorrow. I would be anxious as well.”

He gave her a small smile in return. “Thank you for the water and… the unmentionables. Goodnight, Nigella.”

“Goodnight, my lord.” Nigella curtsied, and softly closed the door behind her.

Alistair turned his attention to the steaming water awaiting him in the tub and immediately stripped out of his clothes. He stepped into it and hissed at the heat; he forced himself to breathe and lowered himself in, gradually becoming accustomed to the temperature. Soon, he was sighing, the hot water seeping into his muscles and soothing away the tension in his body. He took the lemon oats soap they had and thoroughly washed himself head to toe, with extra attention around his loins, as if he could soap and rinse away everything that happened. 

He soaked for a bit, the steam relaxing him as he melted into the tub. His breath was quiet, and his thoughts, once shouting in his head, were lowered to a soft murmur. 

_I enjoyed it._

Alistair clenched his eyes shut as the one thing he tried not to admit slipped through his brain. Morrigan had told him he wouldn’t hate it, and in the end she was right. He had never felt anything like it, and although it had been unwelcome, even a little terrifying, it had felt good. 

He wasn’t entirely sure, but it seemed as though Morrigan had come as well. It was subtle, quiet, but the face she made and how she’d clenched around him at the end reminded him a little of Laurel. Of course, Laurel was louder, her face more expressive and she would cling to him with her whole body… sweet Maker he loved it when she did that. Almost as much as when she was on top and would ride him sometimes slow and teasing and other times hard and fast. Either way, he loved to watch her flush and try not to be too loud. He smiled as he remembered how sometimes a little cry would sneak out regardless, especially if he touched her the right way. Afterward she would kiss and sigh onto his mouth, whispering how much she loved him… 

His eyes burned and Alistair squeezed his eyes shut as a tiny tear escaped the corner of his eye, the evidence soon lost in the cooling water. Yes, having sex with Morrigan had felt… surprisingly, primally, satisfying. 

And he never wanted to do it again.

Nothing that happened with her came close to what he felt when he was with Laurel. Purple mist feeling him up or no, all he felt afterward was depression, despair and loneliness. With Laurel, it was lightness and bliss, love and wholeness. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, and because of tonight, he might actually have a chance to do so.

He emerged from the cold water, dried off, and redressed. Alistair stared hard at his empty bed. He supposed he should try to get some sleep, but somehow he couldn’t bring himself to get in it. The fact was, he was feeling a little homesick. In this case, his home was Laurel.

_No. She wouldn’t want to see me. Not tonight. Not after all this…_

He turned down the covers and crawled in. Alistair lay quiet for a moment, before tearing the covers aside, got up, and walked right out the door into the dark candlelit hallway. He didn’t encounter a single soul on his way before stopping at Laurel’s door. He raised his hand to knock, but stopped, and put it down. She might already be sleeping… Alistair listened through the door, but he couldn’t seem to hear anything, at least not over the sound of his own nervous heartbeat. _This is a terrible idea. I should go._ He turned to leave, made it two steps, before turning back and raising his hand to knock.

The door opened just before his fist made contact, and both he and Laurel were startled to see each other on the other side.

“Oh! Hi.”

“Hi.” He stupidly replied.

“Were you – “ she stopped to briefly bite her bottom lip before trying again. “I was just on my way to check on you.”

“Oh?” His feet shuffled anxiously. Alistair noticed her voice sounded a bit strange, and her eyes were a little red. _Had she been crying?_ A new wave of guilt crashed over him. He was surprised he was still standing…

“Would… you like to come in?”

He nodded. Laurel moved aside to let him through and shut the door with a click. As he entered, her warhound raised its massive head from his paws in greeting, before settling back on the floor with a heavy sigh. Alistair and Laurel stood awkwardly looking and not-looking at one another for a long moment. “Please,” Laurel gestured to one of the chairs by the fire. “Have a seat.”

Alistair didn’t feel like sitting, but he did so anyway. She took the one opposite his own. For several tense beats, the only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire.

“So, is it…” her voice trailed off. “Did you…?” Her gaze flicked from the floor to his face.

“It’s done,” he simply said.

A plethora of emotions flickered across her face before she calmly looked over into the fire. “Good,” she said softly. 

Stillness stretched on as they silently sat.

Finally, Laurel broke the silence with a gentle question. “Are you alright?” 

Alistair couldn’t stop the small and bitter laugh that emerged. He bit it off before meeting Laurel’s concerned stare. “I’m fine,” he said as nonchalantly as possible, hoping she didn’t notice the tremor in his hands. 

She nervously licked her lips. “Was it – “

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he snapped. Alistair abruptly stood and walked across the room like a skittish colt. He forced himself to breath, to calm the maelstrom swelling inside.

Laurel watched him from her chair. “Do you want to leave?” she asked quietly.

He thought about it for a moment, remembered his cold and empty bed waiting for him in his room, and shook his head. “No. I don’t want to leave.” Alistair walked over to the bed and heavily sat on its edge, giving a loud sigh as his body suddenly felt like it had gained a hundred pounds... “I don’t want to leave, I don’t want to fight… I’m just tired, Laurel. I’m so tired…”

Laurel came to the bed and softly sat beside him. “Me too.”

There they sat. Alistair stared at the ground and took in the image of their mutually bare feet resting on the floor.

“Do you think it will work?” He suddenly asked, the words leaving his mouth unbidden.

“I hope so,” she replied. “Do you?”

Alistair shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck before meeting her eyes. “I don’t know. I will say this : Morrigan may not give a crap if _I_ live or die, but she certainly cares if you do.” He looked away again. “That said, I think our chances are about fifty/fifty,” he concluded lightly.

Her cool hand covered his, her familiar touch at once soothing and heartbreaking.

“Thank you, Ali. Thank you…” she whispered ardently, her voice thick with emotion as she gently squeezed his hand. Alistair turned his palm up and squeezed it back, his hand soon warming hers.

“Laurel,” he said hoarsely, his throat suddenly working around the lump that formed. “If we somehow _do_ live through tomorrow… will you still marry me?”

“Yes, you stupid man. Of course, I’ll still marry you.”

Alistair’s lip started to quiver, so he drew her into his arms and tucked her under his chin so she wouldn’t see the tears he was threatening to shed. She wrapped her arms around him with a long sigh, and he felt the weight he had been carrying suddenly begin to ebb away as they held one another.

Alistair cleared his throat and blinked rapidly. “Well that’s a relief, because I’ve already sent out the invitations.”

“Since this afternoon?” she said in playful surprise.

“Mm-hmm, and the cuisine is going to include every stinky cheese known to man, so the tears in everyone’s eyes won’t necessarily be from happiness…” her body shook as she giggled. “And I’m having a special garter made.”

Laurel made a sound of disgust. “Oh Alistair, you know I hate wearing frilly things.”

“Who said it was for _you?_ ” 

He earned a full laugh for that, and he smiled. He heard her lightly sniffle and gave her a light kiss on the top of her head as he unconsciously rubbed soothing circles around her back.

“I love you, Ali.”

“I love you, too.”

Always.

—————————————

 

_Holy fucking Herald, it worked!_

He couldn’t believe it. Could not believe it. They had stormed the castle with their mismatched army, barely made it through, and fought their way to the Archdemon. It had been a close fight; their reinforcements were depleted and they there down to their last reserves, but finally the beast went down. Before he could blink, Laurel threw her shield aside, took her sword in hand and drove it into the skull of the dreaded monster. The horrific moment her sword took the final blow, Alistair could only watch in agony and hope, certain that the taint would take her away from him, and that he would be cursed to live in a world without her in it.

Alistair looked upon her in awe as the foul essence poured from the dragon and flowed up and through Laurel to swirl above her, circling like a tempest in the blood red sky. Soon, the storm cleared, and she was still there. 

“It’s over…” whispered Wynn beside him, standing serenely amongst the carnage of their battle. “She’s done it.”

Laurel stood, her sword still in the enormous corpse of her foe as she found her feet. She looked dazed, as if unsure if she was awake or asleep. She looked around, and found him. 

She smiled. Her face, helm and armor were covered in darkspawn filth, she looked about ready to keel over, and she gave him the most dazzling, heart-stoppingly beautiful smile. 

_It’s over… She’s done it…_

_She’s alive._

Alistair laughed. He laughed so hard that he cried. Or perhaps he cried so hard he laughed? He didn’t know, it was all so giddy and mixed up he could hardly make sense of anything, but it didn’t matter. All he knew was that suddenly Laurel was in his arms, tears pouring out of their eyes and their cheeks aching with laughter.

“It worked…” he mumbled against her wet cheek. “It actually worked!”

“We did it, Ali!” She cried joyfully. Laurel pulled back and cradled his face between her blood soaked hands. “We did it, we made it…” she gave him a swift kiss and hugged him tight. Alistair held her with all his might as he lifted his grateful eyes to the clouds. An old prayer, dormant from his former life, flitted through his mind...

_Blessed are they who stand before_  
_The corrupt and the wicked and do not falter._  
_Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just._

_Thank you…_ Relief and happiness flooded him from head to toe as he held his love in his arms, the army they had forged together cheering in the distance. 

_Thank you..._


	5. Let’s End With a Wedding, Shall We?

Morrigan had disappeared after the battle. No one had seen where she went to, and Alistair doubted anyone would be able to find her unless she wanted them to.

He’d had to lie to the powers that be, of course. The few Grey Wardens that remained wanted answers as to how Laurel had survived killing the archdemon, thus stopping the blight, perhaps for good. Alistair had made some noises at them that were a vague combination of ‘maybe this’ or ‘maybe that,’ but ultimately boiled down to ‘no idea.’ They were frustrated and mystified, but he still thought it was better not to tell them about their new King performing a blood magic sex ritual that produced something potentially _more_ dangerous than the blight itself. He and Laurel would deal with that when the time came, but for now, they were free of it, and they had each other. 

He did his best not to think about it, to just be grateful for the gift of standing here in his kingdom, dressed in his kingly threads in front of all his friends and noble folk. 

And then there she was…

All stood as she walked ceremoniously through the high arches of the gilded doors. She held her brother’s arm as they came down the aisle and Alistair’s heart skipped a beat. He had never seen her in a dress before; the pale silk clung to her beautifully as the golden thread running through it lit up in the rays of sun beaming through the south windows, making her glow like a goddess of light. But as radiant as the dress was, Laurel’s smile was so much more so, and his heart ached with love.

He watched her as she winked to their companions at the front, before meeting Alistair’s eyes again. He was sure he looked ridiculous, but he couldn’t stop grinning like an idiot, and didn’t care. Fergus walked her up the stairs to the alter where Alistair stood, before standing sentinel behind his little sister. He gave Alistair a nod, and he hoped it was an approving one. 

Laurel held his gaze, and the Chantry minister began her speech. He didn’t hear a word of it; he could only stare at the wonderful and gorgeous woman before him, content beyond reason. He didn’t dare blink, not wanting to miss a single thing as they lovingly looked upon at one another, oblivious to anything outside their own little enchanted world.

When it was time say his vow, he did so automatically. Laurel said her’s as well, and then came the moment to seal their union with a kiss. The minister barely got the words out before Laurel was in his arms, kissing him as if she was leaving an imprint of her very soul upon his lips, and all he could do was hold on for dear life.

The audience around them let out thunderous applause, and there were more then a few wolffish whistles. With a light giggle, they pulled away in breathless mirth, and waved to their people. 

“Let the festivities begin!” he announced, and the crowd went wild yet again. Alistair and Laurel exchanged an adoring look before joining the party, hand in hand, this time as husband and wife.

 

—————————————

 

Every time he thought he had it, Alistair’s fingers would slip off at the last moment, the dormant door handle mocking him as he tried to open the blasted bed chamber.

“You know,” said Laurel from above him, “if you would just put me down for a moment, you could –“

“Nope!” he rejected immediately, gently jostling his wife in his arms to try again. “Carrying you over the threshold is the perfect end to the perfect day, and I will not be defeated by an inanimate object…”

He heard Laurel give a dramatic sigh. “Well it’s too bad you’re so stubborn; I’ve been waiting to get you to myself all day, you know…” A moist tongue traced the shell of his ear before a set of teeth gently scraped his lobe. A hot shiver ran through him as she whispered to him between teasing kisses. “I’ve been so patient, Alistair. I’ve barely been able to stop myself from fondling you under the table at the banquet, or dragging you to a quiet corner and have you take me hard and fast against the wall…” she paused to nip at his neck, drawing a low moan from him as his groin tightened. “I’m so wet for you, Ali… I’m just about ready to pop…”

That did it. Alistair hoisted her higher in his arms and kicked the cursed door open, the latch breaking in protest as it gave with a _crack!_

“How’s that for a ‘ _pop’?_ ” Alistair asked triumphantly. Laurel laughed as he carried her in and kicked the abused door shut behind them. They kissed as he lowered her carefully onto the four post bed of their room. He clumsily kicked off his boots and ceremonial armor before eagerly climbing on the bed with her. He stretched out next to her, their lips locked as he ran his hand under her dress up the length of her leg, all the way up to her hip… and beyond.

Alistair groaned against her mouth. “Sweet Maker, you’re not wearing any underthings…” he wished _he_ had thought of that, as his cock suddenly strained almost painfully against his layers.

Laurel bit her lip wickedly. “Well, you see, there was this devastatingly handsome man I saw across the room earlier today, and I just _knew_ I was going to get lucky.”

“Boy, am I glad you settled for me instead.” They giggled, and Alistair gave her a quick kiss before diving under her skirt to nibble her inner thighs. He kissed his way up and found her already wet as he teased her with his tongue, loving the sounds she made as he pleasured her. 

“Ali…” she moaned, writhing into his mouth. “Oh… I want you… please, I want you…”

The skirt over his head disappeared and strong fingers gently but firmly grasped his hair and encouraged him up her body. His eyes met hers as she rolled him onto his back and straddled him. Her hands found the fastenings of his shirt and forced the edges open with a loud _rip!_ Alistair gasped in arousal as her feverish hands ran hungrily over his exposed chest, sending fire straight to his loins.

Laurel quickly undid the clasps of his trousers, and with a little careful maneuvering, released his arousal from it’s confines and gave a happy sigh as she took him inside. Alistair moaned as she surrounded him; she leaned over him to capture his lips, their tongues lapping as she rocked forward and back at a steady rhythm. Alistair felt himself swell in her heat. His hands found her breasts and palmed them through her dress. As soon as her nipples hardened, he gave them a little pinch and rolled them with his thumbs. She whimpered passionately into his mouth and tightened a little around his cock. He flexed inside her and she gasped, her hips moving faster against him. Alistair suckled her neck with a groan, his thighs quivering as he neared his release. Thankfully she was right with him; her hands clinging to his shoulders as her hips moved erratically.

“Ah,” she moaned, her thighs squeezing his hips as she rode him. “Ah… ah… ahh…”

Alistair bent his knees and thrust against her, her voice steadily becoming more shrill in amorous abandon. “Ahh… ah… _ah… Ah! Ahhh!_ ”

Her spine arched with a strong shudder as she cried out, her hips grinding as she climaxed. He seized her wriggling backside and moved her against him until he groaned with his own joyful release. Alistair buried his face in her hair as he held her to him, breathing in her scent and loving her comforting weight as she pressed him into the feather bed. 

Alistair started to chuckle. Laurel lifted her head up and moved her hair aside.

“What?” she asked, curious.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to finally make love to you in a bed. If I’d known all I had to do was become king and marry you, I would have done it a long time ago.”

She laughed with a good natured shake of her pretty head, and gave him a kiss whilst lowering herself to lie upon the bed next to him, stroking the smooth skin below his collarbone as they cuddled.

“Promise me you’ll never stop making me laugh, Ali.”

“For you, anything. Although…”

Laurel looked up at him at his pause. “Although what?”

Alistair made a face. “I don’t suppose it’s too late to tell you I’m not crazy about the nickname ‘Ali’?”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Oh. Wait, I’ve been calling you that for months! Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

He shrugged. “Well, at the time it looked like there was a good chance we were going to die, so there wasn’t much reason to correct it. But now, seeing as we have our whole lives together…”

They stared at each other a moment. “Maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“No no, I’m glad you did. We need to fix this…” Laurel settled on the bed, looking up at the ceiling. “Let’s see… Alistair… Stairy? No, that is way worse. Perhaps something outside your given name. Hmmm… Lamppost-Licker? Eh, a little too long. Rose Wielder. No… Oh! I’ve got it! Arse-Gazer! Yes it’s perfect!”

Alistair balked at her. “No! It is most certainly _not_ perfect!”

Laurel blinked at him. “Oh, I’m sorry, that was disrespectful. What I meant to say was _King_ Arse-Gazer.”

Alistair blushed and rolled his eyes. “You know what, ‘Ali’ has suddenly grown on me. Let’s just stick with that.”

“No way! This is a way better name. It’s majestic, apt, and – _Ali don’t you dare!_ ”

Laurel shrieked as his hands suddenly began to savagely tickle her sides and behind her knees. She kicked at him to get away as she laughed and screamed. He advanced as she retreated, and soon they found themselves rolling off the bed with a thud and a tangle of limbs. 

“Ow,” mumbled Alistair as he took the brunt of the fall, his giggling wife squirming in his arms on top of him as she fought to break his lock without damaging him. Her wriggling backside against his groin soon had him forgetting all about tickling, and instead ready to move on to something a little more… well, you know.

He could tell when she noticed, because she immediately quieted her struggles, and instead, very intentionally, ground her ass against him. Alistair moaned into the back of her hair, lifting her skirt as his fingers sought for her center… She arched into him with a wanton sound.

“Ready to yield?” He mumbled hotly into her ear as he petted her.

“Never,” she purred, grinding at a slow pace. “But help me out of this dress and we’ll call it a draw?”

He grinned. “Deal.”

Several minutes later, they would be panting in each other’s arms, their bodies quenched with lust as they breathe into each other’s mouths.

“I love you, husband…” Laurel sighed, her voice bringing him back to life again. 

“And I love you, wife…”

_Always…_

 

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Comments are welcome :)


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